Note from the author: Once again my writing quickly sprawled from blog to mini-book. Here is a brief chapter description so if you are short on time you can choose what you would like to read within your time limits. "The Climb" details the first day of a recent SF, Army, and ANA mission I was on. "The Descent" highlights the spiritual insight I received while on the mission, what might be considered the blog part of the blog. The epilogue is short, but it's true. Day three was the worst day of the whole stinking mission, but I didn't go into why. As a special side note, I listened to my entire collection of The Clash music while recounting this adventure.
The Climb
I knew that the mission to Waygal (pronounced Whygall) would be a great one, because step one was an air assault. Air assault is the army way of saying, "You get to ride in a helicopter." The ride was a CH-47 Chinook. It carried me, my ANA (Afghan National Army) Squad, a Green Beret team, and some other Infantry soldiers from 10th Mountain to Waygal. Even though we were still in the air I could tell we were in the wrong place; I could see snow on the tops of the mountains. I don't do snowy mountain tops, I like to look at them in pictures but not be on them. Any way there was no time to complain, besides who wants to look like a wimp when Green Berets are standing all around? So then there were some boring military formalities, and after all that I am pointed to the mountain that we are going to climb, and asked if the ANA would lead. So we take off and already I am well aware that I packed too much stuff. As I am walking away one of the guys in the 10th Mountain squad says to another, "I'd say that is a 4 plus."
"On a scale of 5 or what?" Comes the curious reply.
"No four is as high as the scale goes."
Well that is "OK" I tell myself. I have climbed lots of things: houses, fences, trees, rocks, hills, I have even hiked a few mountains in Colorado. Now that my spirits were up my shoulders started going down, like I said earlier, I packed too much stuff.
I am not even going to try and explain how miserable a climb this mountain was. Honestly I thought to my self, I hope something terrible happens to me, like oh say a compound fracture to my femur! Anything that would make it so that I never have to climb up or down this mountain again. Well as luck would have it the only pain I had to endure was the pain of embarrassment at my slipping and falling, huffing and puffing, and wishing that everyone else wanted to take a break every ten steps like I did. So we get to this spot on the mountain and it is great, excellent security positions, excellent view of one of the valleys that we are supposed to watch. Map check. "Oh look if we go higher we can see BOTH valleys!" Did I mention how steep this mountain, it is like nothing I have ever climbed before. We are barely half way and I am already spent. So, on we go. Fortunately, for my mental health (and public image) I did not time this evolution.
Have you ever climbed a mountain? There at the bottom you have all the fun little deciduous trees that we surface dwellers are familiar with, as you get higher though they go away and are replaced with evergreen trees. This is generally accepted as the line: If you are experienced or with a trainer you go ahead an cross it. This line is not for the feint of heart. We crossed it. Our group was a one sided mix of military trained and those who grew up in the environment (7). Then there were the rest of us who have yet to be trained and more fortunate to grow up on solid, level, horizontal ground (14). The next line is when all trees stop, and you have rock. So after huffing, puffing, struggling, stopping, falling, and climbing. We finally get to the top.
I watched as the ANA commander was placing his troops into their security positions. The army squad leader is doing the same. I find a spot for my self and my interpreter, Omar. The sun was shining though the cloudless sky. The jovial banter of soldiers at work was pleasing my ears as I tried to scamper across the bare rock to the place I like for myself. As I crept along the most amazing thing happened. My ruck sack, the heavy one that I have been complaining about because I over packed, fell and proceeded to roll. "Watch out, watch out!" I shouted to those below. For not having eyes or any way of processing information a bag on the loose will seem amazingly competent. It dodged trees, launched itself to greater speed off huge rocks that I thought for sure would stop it, and it never got tired. So guess who has to walk back down and get the bag that he over packed?! My bag was still rolling about a quarter of the way down the mountain when a soldier in the rear guard tackled it. I was really grateful, and walked the rest of the way up with them.
Did I mention that the mountain was steep? To sleep I had to place my feet at the base of a tree, and I laid in-between my ruck sack and my assault bag. Inside my sleeping bag: Ahhhhh, a little slice of heaven. Despite the facts: The rock underneath me being an uncomfortable and knowing that rolling too far either way was certain doom it felt so good to lay down that night. (Did I mention that I over packed, yeah I had this great little travel pillow I got in a care package.) It was great, a hard days work behind me and a long night's rest in front of me. JES Princess tells me that she does not put the ALL the covers on me in the middle of the night, but instead I roll back and forth each time taking a little more with me, in short I roll around a lot in my sleep. Not this night. Every time my leg (or arm fell asleep) or I felt some muscle twitch I made an effort to wake up, gently roll, and then go back to sleep.
Where do you go to the bath room if you wake up in the middle of the night on the bare rock face at the top of a mountain? Ha, bet you thought I was going to answer that one huH?!
The Descent
The night was cloudless the stars were absolutely beautiful, and the moon was full and bright.
Up on top of that mountain the big dipper is BIG. Vincent VanGough's "Starry, Starry Night" cannot is nothing like what I saw. Every now and then I get a feeling I call "owning an image". I guess what I am trying to say is that something intangible becomes at least visible. Generally, as with this night, the images I "own" deal with creation, when I get to see just how creative the Creator is. I don't know if anyone else had their breath taken away by the sky dotted with so many stars and the snow capped mountains glowing under the full moon or not, but if they didn't they truly missed out.
Every time I woke up a dread of going DOWN the mountain then next day swelled inside me. When BOB (Big Orange Ball, the sun. . . duH!) finally rolled around the next morning we were already planning a patrol. When I agreed to move on and off the top of the mountain to patrol some of the local area it was before I saw the mountain. What a misery. Every Afghan at his heart is a billy goat, they are so quick up and down. I am still wondering, "if the town has electricity why not install an escalator?" Just before dark the night before a shepherd wandered though one of the ANA sectors, we challenged him and found out that some of his goats were missing and then let him pass. On the way down I noticed there was no trail (actually I couldn't help but notice it on the way up, that is part of what made even the level parts hard . . . no trail) and how difficult it would be to find something. Then the words of Jesus explaining the importance of his mission, by way of telling the story of a man with 100 sheep who lost one and went to find it flooded my mind. (Mat. 18: 11-13) Searching high and low across rugged and steep terrain looking for a cold separated possibly wounded animal. Our Savior related this story to how important each of his followers were to Him. He would be that Shepherd and each of us at one time (or 30 times) or another lost and alone on the side of some immense precipice without the will to move up and so overcome with fear that we cannot get down. (I have seen the importance of the shepherd to the flock once before here in Afghanistan but it was not as dramatic. We were set in on an OP {Observation Post} and could see this one guy with a huge throng of sheep all around him. It seemed if he took one step to the right or left even the sheep all the way to the front of the flock adjusted their path to be in the same exact way as his. Maybe that should have left a deeper impression all those months ago, when I first saw it. Imagine all the Christian sheep being in step with Jesus!)
So there I am gimping down the mountain trying to keep up with the soldiers who I supposed to be advising; who seem to enjoy taking a break until I get caught up with them and then starting again. But I am delighted as I walk with these two wonderful images to think about. Then my foot slips and as I spew out profanity as quick as I blink my left hand flails out to grab whatever might be sturdy enough to correct my balance. Wham-O, I caught a hold of a rock nearly the size of Delaware and before I finished swearing I was up on my feet with nothing to complain about. It only took a second to loose my mind but honestly without any exaggeration or hyperbole I was more terrified on the side of that mountain than I have ever been of anything in my life. It was that steep. It dawned on me, my God is a rock. Up until that split life-flash before-your-eyes second when I heard something about God being a rock I just thought of . . . don't laugh, the Prudential logo, you know . . . the Rock of Gibraltar. But now I have had in my hand a tiny piece of this enormous mountain. An enormous image of this tiny sentence. A view of God, His saving power, and the truth of all His words.
The rest of the day was uneventful. The patrols yielded nothing credible of any sort. Even the trip back up the mountain was uneventful. But as I went up the mountain a new fear began to dawn on me: Tomorrow I will have to go down the mountain with my over loaded ruck sack.
Epilogue
About 2315 I was awakened by the worst sound, approximately 5 rounds had just gone through the barrel a machine gun. The radio quickly rattled with questions. It turned out to be my soldiers firing at something they saw in the brush below their position. Unfortunately I could not just ask that. I had to wake up the interpreter climb up the rock face in the dark alert the ANA so they wouldn't shoot at me coming up the mountain, wake up their commander. Then begin to talk to them to sort everything out, re-explain the "Rules of Engagement", re-explain the importance of the Rules, and then go and report everything I learned and ordered to my leaders. Consequently it was 2338 when I crawled back into my little slice of heaven (sleeping bag). "WOW, I wonder why he noticed the time?" you may be asking yourself. Because as soon as I got myself propped up against the tree and wedged inbetween my bags a snowflake gently landed on my nose. A SNOWFLAKE! Now going down hill will really get interesting.
